you take those infernal things away. And look out, will you, for the
arrowheads are deadly poison. The fool who got 'em didn't know they were
African, and not Indian at all! And hold on!" The hand vanished, and
presently reappeared holding two rifles. "And take these away, too!
They're loaded, capped, and NOT on the half-cock! A jar, a fall, the
slightest shock is enough to send them off!"

"I'm dreadfully sorry that you should find it so uncomfortable in our
house, Uncle Sylvester," said Kitty, with a flushed cheek and vibrating
voice.

"Oh, it's you--is it?" said Uncle Sylvester's voice cheerfully.
"I thought it was Bridget out there. No, I don't intend to find it
uncomfortable. That's why I'm putting these things outside. But, for
Heaven's sake, don't YOU touch them. Leave that to the ineffable ass who
put them there. Good-night!"

The door closed; the whispering voices of the girls faded from the
corridor; the lights were lowered in the central hall, only the red
Cyclopean eye of an enormous columnar stove, like a lighthouse, gleamed
through the darkness. Outside, the silent night sparkled, glistened, and
finally paled. Towards morning, having invested the sturdy wooden outer
walls of the house and filmed with delicate tracery every available
inch of window pane, it seemed stealthily to invade the house itself,
stilling and chilling it as it drew closer around its central heart
of warmth and life. Only once the frigid stillness was broken by the
opening of a door and steps along the corridor. This was preceded by an
acrid smell of burning bark.

It was subtle enough to permeate the upper floor and the bedroom of